Leaking Gas and Shattered Glass
by UnattemptedFeat
Summary: After an explosion at Baker Street, the tenants try to find each other.


**Author's Note** **\- The explosion in this fic is not the one from TGG. This one is an actual, random gas explosion. It is just used as a plot device to demonstrate love, fluff, and family stuff.**

John was still at the surgery. He was tired and a little grumpy; his shift had ended five hours ago. But Dr. Reuben was out sick, so John had offered to pick up his patients. No one had told him that one of those patients would talk for three hours straight.

He was just walking into the lobby, finally headed to the doors, when he saw the story.

 _Explosion at Baker Street._

John ran for the doors.

Sherlock was at New Scotland Yard. Lestrade had gotten made at him at the crime scene this morning and had demanded that Sherlock help with the paperwork as punishment.

He had just forged Lestrade's signature for the hundreth time when his phone rang.

"Hello, John."

"Sherlock!" John was panting. Was he running? "Thank God!"

"What's going on?"

"There's been an explosion at Baker Street!" John explained. "I don't know if it was our flat or someone else's. Do you know where Elizabeth is? I couldn't reach her."

"No." Sherlock stood and raced through the bullpen. "Last I knew she was at the flat." Sherlock was bolting for the exit, ignoring the yells of protest behind him.

"It will be okay, Sherlock." John sounded so sure, Sherlock had to believe him. "See you there."

Sherlock was halfway home when he got a text.

 _Did one of your experiments blow up, Little Brother? -MH_

Sherlock somehow managed to send his reply without slowing.

 _No. John just informed me about the explosion. Was it ours? -SH_

 _It was the flat across the street. Gas leak, apparently. I do think that your windows were blown in though. -MH_

 _You wouldn't happen to know where Elizabeth is, would you? -SH_

There was no reply after that. Sherlock pressed on, his worry making his adrenaline spike.

He rounded the corner onto Baker Street and saw John running in from the other side. There was police tape along one side of the road, blocking most of the traffic. Sherlock reached the front door first, unlocking it and leaving open for John, who quickly ran in. Together they sprinted up the stairs. They reached the landing, and Sherlock saw what Mycroft had been talking about.

Their windows had been shattered by the force of the explosion. Glass was everywhere.

"Sherlock." John bent and picked up something from the middle of the floor.

It was Elizabeth's phone.

The screen was cracked and the case scratched horribly. Sherlock took it from John and unlocked it, somehow it still worked. He saw the missed call from John and even one from Mycroft.

John was on the phone with Lestrade, "She's not here, but her phone was broken in the middle of a pile of glass...Alright...Thank you, Greg."

John turned to Sherlock, who had his eyes squeezed shut, "Lestrade's checking hospitals right now. He said we should stay here and see if she comes back. I'm going to text Mrs. Hudson and ask her if Elizabeth happened to go to the musical with here, it should still be playing."

Sherlock was barely listening. His mind was too busy conjuring up gruesome ideas of what could have happened to his daughter. Was she in a hospital somewhere, hurt and alone? Was she alive?

"It's probably fine, Sherlock." John was pacing, revealing his disbelief in his own words.

No matter how many times John told him it was fine during the next twenty minutes, Sherlock never moved or said a word. But then a noise sent him running for the door.

"Dad? John?" Elizabeth was running up the stairs, just as they had thirty minutes ago. Sherlock met her on the landing, and she stopped, sighing with relief. John came up beside Sherlock and hugged Elizabeth.

"Thank God you're okay." John pulled away. "Where were you?"

"Bart's." Elizabeth informed them. "Dr. Cochran let me sit in on one of his classes. I forgot my phone, but it looks likes that's a lost cause." She was gazing at her mobile, which Sherlock hadn't realized he still carried.

"Give me a moment while I call off the cavalry." John stepped back into the living room to make the necessary calls.

"Were you guys here when...? Wow." Elizabeth had peered around Sherlock to see the state of the living room.

"John was at surgery, and I was at NSY." Sherlock explained.

"That's good." Elizabeth grabbed the broom and dustpan from the kitchen. "What happened exactly?"

"Gas leak across the street apparently." Sherlock watched as she started sweeping up the glass.

John hung up his phone, "Oh, Elizabeth, don't bother with that. I'm sure we can get Mycroft to send some people over to do it."

"Nah, I got it." Elizabeth continued her chore.

There was a knock at the front door, and John left to answer it. Watching him go, Sherlock realized that he'd been right. Everything had turned out okay. But it still didn't change the fact that his child could've been hurt today. Elizabeth could have even been killed.

When Elizabeth had swept up a neat pile of glass, Sherlock bent and held the dustpan for her.


End file.
